Early Bird Gets the Worm, Psychic Goes to Court
by awesomest one ever
Summary: Sequel to: "Blame it on the Night... and Escaped Convicts". Takes place two months later. Full summary inside. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Here's the first chapter of the sequel!!!!!!!! I hope you like it!!!!!!!! R&R!!!!!!!!**

**I do not own Psych.**

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**Full summary:**

They always expected to find Rollins. What they never expected was to find him murdered.

They never expected that Chief Vick, Gus, Shawn, Henry, and Juliet would all be suspects. They never expected that Lassiter would take vacation time (which is why he isn't a suspect), or that Abigail would be in Uganda during the murder, investigation and trial.

They never once expected that Shawn would confess to the murder. And they never for one second expected that Shawn would ever turn down pineapple.

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Shawn's POV

_BRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!!! BRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

I groaned. What was that ringing? I looked around and saw that it was my phone. _Who is calling me at 7 in the morning? Don't they know I'm not awake yet? _I wondered to myself. I answered anyway.

"Hello?" I asked groggily.

"Hey, Shawn."

I recognized the voice immediately and perked up. "Hey, Jules! Are you planning on coming over right now? It's kind of early, but I'm sure we can find something to do."

She laughed. "Actually, I was just going to ask if you wanted to get some coffee. I have nothing to do from now until I leave for work, so I was hoping for some company."

I had started getting dressed when she asked if I wanted coffee. "Yeah, sure. I'll meet you at your place in… ten minutes?"

"Yeah, okay. See you then."

She hung up, and I was left staring at the phone. Ever since that day with Rollins and Yang, we had slowly shifted back into our old routine of shameless, flirtatious banter. This was the first time we'd done something that was just us – Gus or the SBPD had always been around somewhere before now. I was kind of hoping this was a sign that we were finally going to be more than just friends. I had never really liked that label anyway.

I hopped on my motorcycle and sped down to her apartment. She was standing out front, waiting for me outside. I didn't know if that was a good thing or bad thing. "Hey, Jules! Good to see you this morning!"

She smiled. "Hi. Sorry if I woke you. After I called you, I realized you might have been asleep."

"It's fine, Jules. It could be five o'clock, and you could call me. All you need to say is, 'Shawn, I'm here. I'm lonely,' and I'll come running."

She laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."

We got into her car, me in the passenger seat. If it had been anyone else, I would have taken the keys and drove myself, but I didn't for two reasons. 1) I had no idea where the coffee shop was, and 2) because I had fallen _way _too hard. Oddly enough, I wasn't as upset about that fact as I should have been.

"So, what's up? Any interesting cases?" I asked.

"Not really. Carlton still refuses for me to go anywhere without calling him, though." Her face scrunched into a grimace. "He's going to read me the riot act over this. Even on vacation, he refuses to let me go somewhere unless I call him first."

"Over going to a coffee shop with a loveable psychic consultant? Seriously?"

"Yeah. He's been really overprotective since…" her voice trailed off. Her eyes were kind of sad.

I cleared my throat. "So? What kind of coffee is at this coffee shop? Is there pineapple?"

She gave me a look. "Shawn, I don't think there's such thing as pineapple coffee."

I stared at her. "Jules, why on earth wouldn't someone create pineapple coffee? Don't they know how awesome it would be?" I continued before she could answer. "Note to self, make pineapple coffee."

She shook her head. "Shawn, I don't think you'll be able to make pineapple coffee. And even if you did, I'm not entirely sure you'd like how it tasted."

I gasped. "Jules! You underestimate me! I could _totally _made pineapple coffee! Besides, I wouldn't drink it unless I was sure it would taste good. That's why I'd give it to Gus first."

She laughed as we pulled into the coffee shop parking lot. "Well, here we are. Let's go. Then we can talk more about your plans to make pineapple coffee."

I grinned. "Of course, Jules. What else would we talk about?"

"Oh, I don't know, how's Gus?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know. There haven't been any cases, so he's been doing his route every day. He hasn't come by at all this week." I frowned. When _was _Gus coming back? What if we got a case today? Shouldn't he be ready to help me? Oh, well, I'd worry about it later. Right now, I'm going to enjoy my date with Jules. Well, semi-date. Outing. Outing that I really wish was a date.

"Really? That's too bad. You must be kind of lonely."

My smile widened. "Not anymore."

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled anyway. I was getting to her. And this _definitely _had the potential of being a date with Detective O'Hara.

* * *

We walked out of the coffee shop laughing. "I can't believe you once got a girl because you guessed her weight right."

I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm good with women, I guess."

"I would never go out with a guy just because they guessed my weight right and decided I'd get a prize anyway – and that my prize was their phone number," she said.

"What would you do?"

"I would probably arrest him for harassment and then demand a _real _prize, simply because of the horrible customer service."

I laughed. "I can actually picture you doing that."

She grinned. "I doubt I'd get the prize, though."

"I'd help you get one," I assured her. "I have several contacts in the business. They're actually pretty high up."

She shook her head in amazement. "Sometimes, I don't know about you, Shawn. Although, I do think that you cheated with that job."

"Why?"

"Because you're psychic!" she exclaimed, as if it was obvious. "You could just read them and then know how much they weighed. You took their money."

I smiled. "You're not going to arrest me, are you?"

She shook her head. "I think I'll let this one go."

Her phone started ringing. She looked at the caller ID and looked surprised. "It's the Chief." She answered. "Hello?" She paled. "What?" Pause. "When?" Another pause. "We'll be right there." She hung up and looked at me.

"Rollins was found murdered. We're all suspects."

I had two thoughts: 1) Thank god that SOB was off the streets, and 2) so much for _that _being a date.


	2. Chapter 2

**Here's the next chapter!!!!!!!!!! I hope you like it!!!!!!!!! R&R!!!!!!!!!!!**

**I don't own Psych.**

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Juliet's POV

I hate interrogation rooms.

I didn't realize it until right when the stupid LAPD detectives had told us (us being Chief Vick, Gus, Henry, Shawn, and I) that we would each be put in different interrogation rooms. All I could think about was how Shawn was doing. He had to be okay, though, right? I mean, this was _Shawn Spencer. _He could handle anything. And it's not like _he _killed Rollins.

So all I had to do was answer their questions, then go back to Shawn. I knew all of them. I wasn't worried. None of them were killers. We would all be fine.

One of the LA detectives sat down across from me. She looked at me sympathetically. She didn't think I killed him. "Hello, I'm Detective Franco. I need to ask you a few standard questions about the murder of Mr. Rollins."

She opened the file and pulled out some pictures. They immediately pulled me back into that _horrible _ordeal, back when Abigail and I were suddenly a part of Yang's game with Shawn.

"_I don't care about your stupid game! I want to see Spencer pay."_

I shivered at the memory. There was a gunshot in his forehead, right in the center. This was done execution-style.

"You were held hostage by Rollins and one other person, correct?" Franco asked. "And he… shot you in the shoulder?"

_He held out his gun. I heard a shot ring out, and felt an intense pain in my shoulder. I heard a scream. I was pretty sure that it was mine._

"Yes," I whispered. This was not going to go well.

"And before that, he had taken Mr. Spencer hostage and shot him in the shoulder, correct?"

_As soon as I parked Gus's car, I sprinted over to Shawn. There was a lot of blood coming out of his shoulder, and some from his head. Now that the adrenaline wasn't pumping, he was becoming more and more tired._

"_Shawn?" I asked. I could easily hear the edge of panic in my voice. "Shawn, hang on, okay? The ambulance is coming."_

"Yes," I whispered again. "That's correct."

She looked down. She didn't look like she wanted to ask me these questions. For whatever reason, she was convinced that I was innocent. I was glad.

"Detective O'Hara, how close are you to Mr. Spencer?"

I was shocked by the question. "Um… what?"

"How close are you to Mr. Spencer? I only ask because it could be pertinent later on in the investigation."

I swallowed. "Right. Of course." Oh, god, how was I supposed to answer this? "We're close. He's saved by ass on several occasions, and vice versa. We're friends and we work together. That's pretty much it."

"But if someone, say, shot him and kidnapped him, you'd go to all lengths to chase them down, correct?"

I didn't like where this was going. "Yes. And I did. You can read the case file."

"I did read the case file. There was something… peculiar about it. You see, we watched a video about a phone call made to you by Mr. Spencer was he was kidnapped." She moved to the TV that was in the room and played it. I saw myself talking to Shawn.

_Before I go, I have to say one more thing._

_Of course, Shawn, what is it?_

_I need you to know that… I love you._

She paused the tape. I saw my face. I could read my emotions just as easily as Franco obviously could. Surprise. Fear. Concern. And also… a bit of… happiness? She played it a little longer.

_Shawn, I think that I –_

She paused it again. "We had an expert read your lips for your end of the conversation, Detective. You said: 'Shawn, I think that I' and then was cut off, correct?"

I nodded.

"What cut you off?"

_Good-bye, Abigail._

"He said something. Shawn never learned that interrupting was rude," I said, before I could stop myself. It was exactly the kind of thing he could say.

Her lips quirked, and I suddenly remembered that she was on _my _side. That this replay of the worst phone conversation I've ever had was just protocol. She had to ask me everything that was relevant, just in case. No matter what she truly felt.

She played the video again.

_Good-bye, Abigail._

My facial expression then was devastated. Hurt. She could see it all. Why couldn't I keep it to myself? Why couldn't I keep _anything _to myself? Everything from all of the worst moments in my life kept being shoved in my face over and _over _again. Why couldn't it stop?

Detective Franco looked at me. "Detective O'Hara, you say that you are just friends with Mr. Spencer, correct?" she asked.

I nodded.

"Then what do you call this?" she asked, as she put another tape in. It was a security tape. I almost died when I recognized it. My internal rant from just seconds ago replayed itself over again.

I watched as I talked to Shawn, not letting him talk, while he held popcorn and two sodas (why hadn't I noticed there were two?).

_What I'm saying is that I think maybe the best things, the richest things, aren't supposed to come easily. And that sometimes the moments that make the most sense happen when everything else doesn't._

I watched as I moved closer to him with every word I said.

_And, well, I think you deserve more than popcorn tonight. So why don't you let me take you to dinner?_

And I watched as my face fell when he broke my heart.

_Wow. I can _not _believe this. All this time and your timing is awful._

And I watched as he explained why he couldn't go out with me, why he couldn't say yes, why _I _was the one being rejected this time.

_I can't go to dinner with you, Jules, I'm already on a date._

_You are? What, here?_

_Yeah, right now. It's weird. It's a little weird but, uh, yeah. With Abigail._

And I watched as I kissed him on the cheek, the least platonic thing we'd ever done – and something I still remembered clearly. The feel of his skin, of his stubble…

She paused the tape. "That doesn't exactly seem like friendship behavior, does it Detective?"

I shook my head. "No. No, it doesn't."

She sighed. "Detective O'Hara, where were you three nights ago from 4:00 to 8:00 pm?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but it was dry. I couldn't answer. I didn't know what to say, for some reason. I'd known she'd ask; I'd had it in my mind. Where was my answer?!

The door was suddenly flung open. I turned and saw Shawn standing there. He was pale, and was breathing hard. "I confess."

"What?" Detective Franco asked.

"What?!" I demanded. I couldn't have heard right.

"I confess," he repeated. "I did it. I killed Rollins."

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**AAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! Shawn confessed!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh, wait. I knew that. It was in the summary. Oops.**

**REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the next chapter!!!!!!!!! Shawn is a jailbird… :(**

**R&R!!!!!!!!!! I don't own Psych.**

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Shawn's POV

The only thing I was happy about prison was that I didn't have a roommate.

Ever since I'd started working with the SBPD, there were a lot more criminals in jail. It wasn't because more crimes were being committed, but because people were getting caught more often (no surprise there). But – because of that – there wasn't a lot of room for newcomers.

So I was on my own.

Which, for once, I was happy for. I may be one of them now, but I seriously _didn't _like hanging around killers. Especially since some of them were ones that _I _put here. And they were _not _happy about that fact. At all.

So, I was without a roommate, and I made myself comfortable. I didn't have to worry that some homicidal maniac might kill me in my sleep. But that seriously irked me! Why did they let serial killers hang out with people who hadn't even finished trial yet, and might be innocent?

It almost made me regret confessing to murdering Rollins. I mean, sure I'd get time taken off my sentence for cooperation, but this sucked! I was stuck with murderers I'd put in jail that were willing to kill me! Even after I offered them some pineapple! NOT FUN!

But then I'd remember Jules's face when Detective Franco was questioning her. The horror on her face as she remembered all that had happened with Rollins. The mortification as some of her most private secrets were displayed in front of everyone. And, well… I couldn't let Jules go through that. Which meant getting this over with as soon as possible.

And the first thing I'd thought of was a confession.

Well, it did work. This was a pretty open and shut case. Or at least, I hope it is. I have a feeling that Gus is going to try to pull something that gets me off or will try to draw it out so that I might not have to go to jail. Which was really stupid, if you asked me. Didn't he see how tough this was on Jules already? I didn't want to make her go through more pain.

Which is why I considered murdering him when he walked into the visitor's room with Hornstock.

"Dude, why'd you bring Hornstock?" I asked angrily. "I already confessed! I don't need a lawyer!"

"Shawn, I'm not going to stand by and watch you rot in jail!" Gus insisted. Under different circumstances, I would be flattered that Gus cared this much. But right now, I could only afford to think about protecting Jules. No matter what.

"Gus, let me repeat this," I said, looking him right in the eyes. "I. Already. Confessed. Case closed."

"Well, you could always plead insanity," Hornstock said. "You _are _a psychic, after all. It's bound to make you insane one day."

I stared at him. "What? No! I'm not insane!" I protested. Well, maybe a little… but still, no!

"Why did you confess, anyway?" Gus demanded. "You should have just asked for a lawyer, and Hornstock could have worked everything out. You wouldn't be in here right now!"

"That's not what I want!" I blurted out. _Crap. _I wasn't supposed to say that.

"Why? Do you want to be in jail?"

"No, but –" I didn't answer. I _couldn't. _Not without giving away what I'd seen during Jules's interrogation. I had to protect Jules. What she went through with Rollins was killing her. It had to be forgotten. I had to make sure of that. I _had _to.

Hornstock stared at me. "You were protecting her, weren't you?" he asked softly.

"What?" Gus asked.

"What?" My voice was a little shriller than I needed it to be.

"That's why you killed Rollins. Because he'd hurt Juliet. It makes sense," Gus cut in, suddenly grasping what Hornstock was saying. "And when you confessed, you'd been watching her interrogation. Watching as the detectives were forcing her to remember all of that." He stared at me angrily. "You confessed for a girl?!"

My mouth opened and closed. What was I supposed to say in a situation like this? "All right, you got me. I murdered a guy, and then confessed to said murder, for a girl. Are you happy now, Gus?"

Gus's mouth opened and closed. He looked like he was on the verge of strangling me. I amused myself by watching his face turn different shades of purple.

Hornstock cleared his throat. "Shawn, I'm going to need you to tell me exactly what happened."

I thought for a second. How could I explain this to them? They didn't understand how I could do this for Juliet. What could I say to make them see what I needed them to see?

"I was sitting in the Psych office with Gus. We were waiting for a case. When he left for work, I got a psychic vision telling me where Rollins was," I said. I saw Gus roll his eyes, and I knew he'd ask me about that part later. I'd have to make up an excuse for not calling him.

"At first, I considered calling the police. Then I started thinking about how Juliet would react, and –" I broke off.

"And?" Hornstock prompted patiently.

"I lost it. Next thing I knew, I was standing over his dead body, and there was a bullet in his forehead. Right in the center. I don't remember what happened between getting the psychic vision and shooting Rollins," I said.

Hornstock nodded. "In that case, we could definitely use an insanity defense."

"We could?" Gus asked.

He nodded. "If he doesn't remember anything. It'd be perfect."

Gus suddenly had a look of triumph on his face, but I felt sick to my stomach.

"What about Jules?" I asked. "I can't drag this on with an insanity defense. There'd be a trial. For all I know, Jules might have to testify. I won't agree to that. I refuse to. I don't want her to have to remember."

"Shawn," Gus started. "If you think she'll be upset about having the whole Rollins-Yang incident brought up over and over again, what about when she has to visit her best friend in jail because he killed one of her kidnappers? It'll all blow over quicker if you get out of here, Shawn."

I blinked. I was surprised by his logic. And he was right. I had to protect Jules, which meant getting this over with. If that meant going through with a trial, so be it.

I nodded. "Fine, I'll do it."

Right after I said that, a guard walked in. "Are you two almost done? We got another visitor in here for Mr. Spencer."

"Oh, yeah. We'll be out of your way," Hornstock said in surprise.

I was pretty surprised, too. What happened to "visitors only get a certain amount of time with criminals"? I would need that when my dad came around. With lawyers, they could visit for however long, so Hornstock was an exception. Who else would visit me that could bend rules like that?

When my visitor walked in, I wanted to shout at the guard to send them out. This was just too much. How could I protect Jules if things like _this _happened?

"Shawn," my visitor whispered. "We need to talk."

"Yeah." I agreed. "We do."

* * *

**Gasp! I wonder who the visitor is!!!!!!!!!!!!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the next chapter!!!!!!!!!!!! Enjoy!!!!!!!!!!! R&R!!!!!!!**

**I don't own Psych.**

* * *

Juliet's POV

I walked down the hallway of the prison. A guard stepped in front of me and held his hand out. "Excuse me, but you can't get past here."

I held up my badge. "I need to ask Mr. Spencer a few questions." I hesitated a little when I said 'Mr. Spencer'.

He looked at me considering. "All right. I'll see if the lawyer is done in there."

He turned around and left me standing there. Of _course _Shawn had a lawyer. I doubted Gus would ever let him go to jail without a lawyer right on his heels. I just hoped that it was a really good lawyer – one typically needed one if they had _confessed to an officer of the law._

"You can go in now," the guard said.

I nodded. "Thank you." I stepped inside and saw Shawn sitting in a chair that was on the other side of a line in the middle of the room. He looked shocked when he saw me. I guess he didn't expect me to visit him.

"Shawn." My voice came out a whisper. "We need to talk."

"Yeah," he agreed. "We do."

Despite what we had just said, we were silent. It took me awhile to say anything, and even then it was a simple, "Why?"

"Why what, Jules? Why did I confess?" he asked. I just nodded. He sighed. "I… I wanted to protect you, Jules."

"What makes you think I needed protection?" I asked instinctively.

"I saw the interrogation, Jules," he replied mournfully. "I know all of the pain and confusion you went through with Rollins. I just…" he trailed off.

I swallowed. Tears threatened to well up. He'd done all of this… for me? I suddenly couldn't stand being in this room with him – this room _I'd _put him in. This room that _I _had made him end up in. This was all my fault, no matter what anyone said. Shawn was facing a murder charge because of _me. _"You had better hope you get off, Shawn," I whispered.

"Is that really what's best, Jules?" he asked in defeat. Almost like he was… giving up? Impossible. This was Shawn Spencer. "To get off and then there will be further investigation and this will all drag on and on?"

I paused, considering. He was right. I _didn't _want this to drag on. I wanted it to be over. But I didn't want him to be found guilty, either. I couldn't let Shawn be guilty. Not this time. Not ever, I had recently started to realize.

"Yes, Shawn. It is," I insisted. "You say you're doing this to protect me, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, of course."

"Then protect me now, and don't let me be the reason my best friend may get either life in prison or the death penalty."

He hesitated. "Please," I pleaded with him. I couldn't let him do this, I _couldn't._

He didn't answer. I straightened up. "The trial starts tomorrow. The judge decided to make it high priority, since you're a police consultant. There's less of a waiting period. I'll be there, one way or the other. And damn it, Shawn, you had better come up with something."

And with that I left.

* * *

I sat down on a bench outside of the jail house and started crying. I wasn't usually this emotional, but… well, it's not every day that your best friend confesses to murder for you.

"Detective O'Hara?" a voice asked.

I looked up to see a man standing over me. He was about Shawn's height, straight black hair that was gelled back, and dark brown eyes. "Yes?" I asked.

"I'm the prosecuting attorney in Shawn Spencer's case," he informed me. He stuck his hand out. "It's good to meet you."

I let his hand hang. Eventually, he dropped it. "Do you mind if I ask you a few question?" he asked.

I didn't want to, but I nodded anyway. It was my job, after all. I couldn't interfere with an investigation. Ever.

"You and Mr. Spencer are close, yes?"

I nodded again.

"How close?"

I hesitated. "He's like my best friend."

He nodded. "So, you two have done a lot for each other, then."

His words immediately reminded me of when I thought I had that stupid virus. He'd come into my room and started telling me about prizes and cereal boxes… but it was more than that. He'd – as Gus had said – stopped at nothing to get the cure. Even Carlton had been proud of him – even if it was just a little. The prosecutor – as much as I wished he was a moron – was right.

"Yes."

"Would you do anything to protect him?"

I nodded.

"Do you think he would do anything to protect you?"

I hesitated, then nodded again.

"I see," he said, and then he wrote something down in his notebook. "Do you think he is capable of killing someone if he thought that doing so would protect you?"

My heart stopped. Stupid prosecution, has to be all smart. I was hoping they would be morons. I'd hoped that they wouldn't be able to pin this on him if they had a complete, written confession on their desks. Shawn would get off easier that way.

I found that I couldn't answer the question. It was simple enough. It was my opinion of his character. But there was more to it than just that.

If I said no, I wouldn't go to trial. The prosecution would have no use for me, and Shawn would refuse to let me testify – forcing his lawyer to keep me off the stand for the defense.

If I said yes… well, that would be ratting out Shawn for one thing. Plus, although I'd go to the stand, it would be for the prosecution. The prosecution was _against _Shawn. And if there was one thing I could never do, it would be to testify against Shawn in a murder trial.

I opened my mouth to say no, but then stopped. I had to go to trial, because I had something very important to say. And if was the only way I _could _testify…

"Yes," I lied. "He would."

* * *

**No!!!!! Jules is testifying against Shawn!!!!!!!! Oh, the horror!!!!!!!!!**

**Please review. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Next chapter!!!!!!!!!! Henry and Shawn talk… this cannot end well. R&R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**I don't own Psych.**

* * *

Shawn's POV

I was starting to understand how criminals usually feel. I was sitting in my seat next to Hornstock, and everyone was staring at me with accusing looks on their faces. It really unnerved me.

What was even worse was that people who I'd considered friends were on the _other _side. Lassie, Chief Vick, Buzz, the entire SBPD was over there. Except for Jules. I had yet to see her, even though she'd insisted that she would come.

Gus and my dad were sitting behind me somewhere. Maybe my mom, but I had yet to turn around, so I had no idea. Last I checked, Abigail was still in Uganda. I had no idea. To be honest, I wasn't sure that she would be sitting on this side if she were.

"Mr. Spencer, you are charged with, on November 8th, 2010, a count of first degree murder in that you purposefully caused the death of another, to wit, Jonathon Rollins. Mr. Hornstock, how does your client plead?" the judge asked.

Hornstock stood. "Not guilty, your honor, by way of temporary insanity."

"Given the nature of the charge, you are not entitled to bail as a matter of law," the judge said, already prepared to move on to the next case.

We left. So, that was the arraignment. And tomorrow, the prosecution would be using their witnesses against me. I knew for sure they had Lassie, Rollins's mother, a psychiatrist, and one other person.

And I knew that, despite what she had said, Jules hadn't shown up at all.

* * *

The worst part about a trial is waiting. I was going to have to wait until tomorrow to hear the prosecution's witnesses, go through the night wondering who else had turned against me. And – knowing me – I wouldn't be able to sleep all night because of it.

"Mr. Spencer, you have a visitor," a guard said, startling me. I sat up and walked to the room – and saw Abigail sitting there.

I smiled. "Hi, Abs."

She stared at me. Her eyes were sad. I considered her one of my best friends – especially since she'd been the one to tell me to go after Juliet.

"Shawn," she whispered. "What did you do?"

I swallowed. The disappointment was almost too much to handle. If this was how _Abigail _was reacting, I really didn't want to visit my dad. "What do you think I did? I take it you heard about the trial."

She nodded. "Why?"

"To protect her." She knew who I meant without asking.

"I heard you confessed," she said, her tone accusing.

I nodded.

"You shouldn't have done that," she scolded.

I grinned. "I find it very funny that you're mad at me for confessing and not for the actual crime."

She fought to hide her smile, but my perceptiveness made it impossible. "What can I say? I never did like the man."

I blinked and looked away. I knew why she didn't – and I remembered it all too well. "Yeah. Me neither."

We were silent for a few long moments. "I have to go," she said, suddenly jumping up. "I told Gus I would meet him. So we could talk about how to save your psychic ass."

I grinned. "Well, then you should probably go." Although, I was a little disappointed that our visit was so short. We'd have to work on that.

"Bye, Shawn." She turned around and paused at the door. "Oh, and you have another visitor."

I was confused, but then my father stepped in the room. Wonderful. Just when I was hoping I could escape today's disappointment.

"Shawn," he growled. "What the hell were you thinking, kid? Confessing like that?" Was that really all that people were mad about? They really need to work on their priorities.

"I was thinking that I would get a better sentence," I lied. I really hadn't been thinking that at all.

He glared at me. He could always tell when I was lying. But that disappointment was also there, the one I had been dreading from the moment I said that I killed Rollins. "Shawn, you've done a lot of stupid things, but this _has _to be the dumbest one yet!"

"Which one would that be, the murder or the confession?"

"The murder, Shawn! Because if you hadn't of done that, then you wouldn't have had to confess!" Hm, maybe he did have his priorities straight.

"What was I supposed to do? Let him go? Let him walk around, knowing that he could attack Jules at any time? You know me better than that, dad," I argued.

"Am I supposed to believe that all of this was for a girl?" he asked incredulously.

I didn't answer. Couldn't he see? This wasn't just any girl, this was _Jules. _I would do anything for Jules, and I could never regret it. Ever.

"Oh, my god," he said, stupefied. "You did all of this for a girl?!" He stood up and gave me that look that always meant 'what are you, crazy?' "Shawn, of all the stupid things you've done –" he started to yell.

"This is the stupidest, I know," I interrupted. "But, you know what? I don't care. I don't regret it for a second. I'd do it all over again, if given the opportunity."

He stared at me. "You'd take a life, a human life, all over again?"

"I would do everything the same," I insisted.

He shook his head in disgust. And then he left.

I knew that I had lost one person from my side.

* * *

This was the day. The beginning of the _real _trial. Questions. The prosecution's witnesses. First Rollins's mom, then the psychiatrist, then Lassie, and then mystery witness. I still had yet to find out who it was.

I tuned out most of the trial. I think I even fell asleep. All I know was that I was suddenly alert again when Lassie was taking his oath to tell the truth. And the first thing I saw was Hornstock's defeated expression, and knew we had probably already lost.

"Detective Lassiter, you have worked closely with the defendant, correct?" the prosecutor asked.

"Yes, I have. He was a consultant for a significant number of our cases," Lassie answered stiffly. His expression was unreadable, even for me.

"And Detective O'Hara was also involved in these, correct?"

"Yes, of course. She is my partner." Lassie was looking a little irritated now. He obviously didn't like even mentioning Jules in anything that had to do with Rollins. Which was fine by me.

"So Detective O'Hara and the defendant are close, then."

"Yes, very. They are good friends."

"Good enough that the defendant could kill someone who was a threat to her?" the prosecutor asked. The courtroom was silent.

"Apparently, considering he confessed in front of two officers, one being O'Hara herself," Lassie said dryly. He didn't look very happy about saying it.

The prosecutor let that sink in. "Your witness."

Hornstock rose, that defeated expression on his face again. "The defense rests, your honor."

"Very well. Next witness."

Lassie spoke before they could announce who the mystery witness was. "If I may say one thing, your honor?"

The judge sighed. "Go ahead."

Lassie swallowed. "Mr. Spencer is one of the best people at this job I've ever met. He's put away dozens of criminals. I think that he _could _kill someone, he is capable of many things. But I don't think he _would. _He'd sooner protect someone else by confessing than actually committing the deed." He let that sink in for a moment, and then stepped down. He had a smug smile on his face. Hornstock was grinning, the prosecutor was fuming, and everyone else was stunned. Even I was speechless.

Until the prosecutor said these next words: "The prosecution calls Detective Juliet O'Hara to the stand."

_What?!_

* * *

**Well??????????? What'd you think???????? Next chapter: Jules testifies.**

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	6. Chapter 6

**Here's the next chapter!!!!!!!!!! Jules testifies!!!!!!!!!!! R&R!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Psych.**

* * *

Juliet's POV

"The prosecution calls Detective Juliet O'Hara to the stand." I saw Shawn's shocked and hurt expression as I walked up to the stand. If he knew what I was up to, I think he'd be more angry than hurt.

When they realized that I was the one Shawn himself mentioned he was protecting by killing Rollins, the entire courtroom was shocked. Even more than they had by Carlton's testimony. I smiled. Carlton may not always show it, but he did care about our psychic.

I laid my hand on the bible and took my oath. The prosecutor then stepped forward, certain that my testimony would win him the case. When they saw that _I _of all people was against Shawn, they were certain to find him guilty.

The prosecutor should be more careful about who they let on the stand. They could win more cases that way.

"Detective O'Hara, as your partner, Detective Lassiter, said you and Mr. Spencer are close," he said.

"Yes, we are. He's one of my best friends," I replied honestly. I glanced at Shawn. He was staring at me, his eyes wide. I could somehow sense that he was holding his breath, willing me not to say anything stupid.

"Do you also share the belief that he could kill someone to protect you?"

This was the key to his case. And I answered honestly. "Yes, he could kill someone for me." The prosecutor grinned and started to open his mouth. But I spoke before he could. "But in this case, he didn't."

He blinked. "What?"

"I'm sorry, but this was the only way I could testify. I had to lie to you. Shawn would have never let me testify." Then I raised my voice. "I have evidence proving that Shawn _did not _kill Rollins."

The courtroom took in a collective gasp. Shawn was shaking his head at me. But it was too late. The words were out.

"Well?" the judge choked out.

So I told them the story.

_I walked along the sidewalk, just enjoying the exercise. It was my lunch break. I was happy to be relaxing for once. There weren't very many cases, for once, and I even considered calling Shawn to hang out._

_It was when I was walking by the grocery store that I saw him. I saw his face, and my blood ran cold. It was a face deeply ingrained in my memory ever since he first shot Shawn, then kidnapped and shot me._

_Rollins._

_We'd been looking for him for months. He always managed to stay hidden, but they still wouldn't let me in on the case. And now, here he was, just a few feet away._

_I didn't realize it at first, but I was following him. I didn't remember telling my feet to move, but they did. And I didn't stop them. This was _him, _one of the most evil men I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. The only person worse than him was Yang, and she was dead._

_I felt my holster to see if I had my gun, just in case. It was right where it should be. I kept following him. He soon walked into an abandoned warehouse. I didn't go in right away, wondering if he had any accomplices. I even considered calling for back up. But when I started to reach for my phone, I realized my feet had yet again taken on a mind of their own. I was already inside._

_I looked around, and then heard clapping behind me. I whirled around._

"_Detective O'Hara," Rollins greeted. "You found me. I must congratulate you."_

"_Rollins," I growled, glaring at him. I considered killing him, but dismissed the thought._

"_You should have called for backup, Detective. Maybe that pesky psychic of yours," he sneered. He was goading me. I didn't reply. "Oh, well. I'll still have fun killing you."_

"_I don't know how," I found myself saying. "Considering I won't be the one who's dead."_

_Where were these words coming from? I wasn't even thinking them – they were coming out of my mouth of their own accord. Just like my feet, my mouth and voice had minds of their own._

_Rollins grinned and stepped closer to me. "You won't kill me. You're not a killer, Detective." He grinned menacingly. "But we both know that I am. I was so close to killing your psychic."_

_I felt like I was watching myself. I suddenly wasn't in my body anymore. I was watching – an innocent audience member. I watched as I pulled out my gun and held it to his head._

"_Still think I won't shoot you?" I heard myself say. It was unnerving to watch myself to things and not even be in control. I liked control, especially over my own body._

"_No, I don't. You won't shoot me," he smiled patronizingly._

"_Watch me," I growled. I watched as I cocked my gun. I wanted to scream no as loud as I could, but I couldn't. My voice was with my body, and I had no control anymore. "I hope you rot in hell."_

_And then I shot him, point blank, in the forehead. I was suddenly back inside my body. I turned around and left before I could cry or think about the incident too much. And I told myself it was a dream. But then I got the call, and I knew I couldn't ignore it any longer._

The courtroom was only silent for a moment. Lassie was staring at me, concern etched in his features. He knew what this confession meant for me. Chief Vick had a similar look on her face, along with sympathy. Gus looked relieved, probably because he knew Shawn was off the hook now. Abigail looked the same, but was also terrified for me. Mr. Spencer had a blank look across his face.

Shawn was standing, staring at me. His eyes were wide with horror – horror that I'd confessed and thrown myself into the fire, after all that he had tried to do for me, after confessing to something he hadn't done. For me.

I saw all of this in a second, and then everyone was yelling. Everything was chaos. I stepped off the stand, but every rushed at me – somehow getting past all of the guards. The first thing I realized, though, was when Shawn grabbed me and pulled me into his embrace. He hid me from everyone else.

"Why?" he asked me, his tone haunted. "Why couldn't you just let me take the blame?"

"Because that's not what friends do," I said. "And I couldn't risk you losing and getting punished for what I did."

When he started crying it was for both of us. And suddenly, our roles were switched. He needed protection from the big, bad world, where one of his best friends was a murderer. He needed a false sense of security. I hugged him, giving him what he'd been giving me ever since I'd told him Rollins had been found murder.

And I knew that the worst was still to come.

* * *

**HAH!!!!!!!!!!! Bet you didn't see that coming, huh?! Well… as far as I know. Maybe someone did. But I fooled most of you!!!!!!!!!!!! So hah. :P**

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	7. Chapter 7

**All right, so I know I've been MIA for a while, and there's really no excuse. But, I do have, like, five chapters for this story to update. So, I'm just going to update them. I'm not even going to bother with author's notes (except for this one). So enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Psych. This disclaimer goes for all chapters I update today.**

Shawn's POV

I sat down at my desk (okay, Gus's desk, I don't have one) and put my head in my hands. I tried to think of anything else I could do that would help Juliet. I was coming up blank. I'd already convinced Hornstock to take her case. I'd already visited with her for as long as allowed (and then some) in prison. What else could I do? There had to be something… right? There was no way this was up to chance now. There was absolutely no way in hell that Juliet's life could ever be up to chance.

So why couldn't I think of any way to help her? Why couldn't I find some indisputable way to save her?

Because this wasn't a case, that's why. This wasn't a murder investigation, or a robbery, or any of the other mysteries I'd solved. The only thing that came close was that case with the teacher and the weather guy – the case where I first met Hornstock. I'd become a psychic consultant then. I could probably do it again, but what would that help? Jules had already confessed! In the middle of a trial, for Pete's sake! How was I supposed to protect her from that? How was I supposed to help her out of this? The teacher really had been innocent – this time, Jules really was the culprit. Why couldn't she have just let me fry?

"Shawn?" a voice asked tentatively, yanking me out of my misery. I looked up and saw my dad.

"Oh. Hey, dad." I put my head back in my hands. I couldn't focus on him and the inevitable lecture. I had to focus on Jules. I had to save her. There was no other option. Losing wasn't an option anymore. Not when it was _Jules _that was at stake.

"Shawn… I just came over to say that… I'm sorry."

The words didn't register at first. I was too busy focusing on Jules. But when they finally reached my mind, I looked up in shock. "Huh?" was all I could manage to say.

"I was wrong," he admitted, looking at the ground. I blinked. "You… you didn't kill Rollins. I should have seen that. I should have seen that you were protecting someone. I just couldn't… I couldn't come up with a reason you would do something as _stupid _as confessing to _murder!" _Here we go. This was the dad I remembered. "_Especially _one you didn't even do! Shawn, don't you realize how incredibly dangerous that was for you? Do you realize that it was _your _life on the line because you just couldn't stop talking for once in your life?"

"Yeah, dad, I did," I said, the misery I was feeling coloring my tone. "Just like I now realize that _Jules _is the one on the line now."

He was quiet for a moment. "So, you and this girl are really close then."

I nodded. "She's one of my best friends."

"Nothing more than that?" he asked.

I repressed the stab of pain in my chest. "No. She doesn't think of me like that. She thinks of us as friends, colleagues. That's it."

I knew that he was listening for clues behind my motives, which is why I wasn't surprised when he locked in on my choice in pronouns: she. Not we this time, or me.

"What about you, Shawn?" he asked, his voice growing soft again. "How do _you _feel?"

"I…" I started. "I don't know, dad. But I know that it's more than just friends. More than just people who work together. I can just _feel _it. But… I don't know… I don't know how to _describe _it. I mean, with Gus I can say that we're practically brothers. With Lassie, I can say that he's my friend who doesn't like psychics very much. With the Chief, I can say she's my boss, but – in her own way – my friend. With you, I can say you're my dad, but our relationship is… strained. But I just can't do that with Jules. I can't put her in one category; I can't describe it like that."

My dad was quiet, as if expecting me to continue. When he realized I wasn't, he said, "Try, Shawn. Sometimes it's good just to… to talk about these things." I realized he was trying to do what he hadn't with mom: communicate. Clear the air. Talk about what they meant to each other. It was too late for us to do that with each other, but I think he knew that, too. But it wasn't too late for Jules and I, and now he was trying to make up for the past through that.

And – for once in my life – I decided to let him. "When she hurts, I hurt. When she's happy, I'm happy. When she's in trouble, I can't breathe or think or move because I'm just so damn _terrified. _When someone hurts her, I want to strangle them and make sure they'll never do it again. When she's out with some guy that I don't really know, it takes every ounce of my willpower not to follow them or do a background check – and even then, sometimes Gus has to stop me. Saying that I like her… it doesn't cover it."

"Okay, what about saying you love her, Shawn? You may act like it, but you're not a _complete _idiot. You had to at least acknowledge it a _little. _You confessed to _murder _for her, Shawn!" he said. "Now, I don't know about you, but I think that that takes a whole lot of love, and I don't mean friends love or familial love, either."

I thought about it. Did I really love Jules?

Yes, yes I did. I knew that before I even asked. And dad was right, I didn't love her as a friend or like a sister (like with Gus, only brother instead of sister).

"So what do I do?" I asked.

He looked at me in surprise. I never asked him for help. Not outright, anyway. This plea… it was definitely a first. But well… he admitted he was wrong, for once, so I guess we're even.

"You grow up. You become a man. And you tell her. Because there aren't very many miracles in the world, Shawn. And you can't fix everything, even for her."

I knew what he was saying. He was telling me to prepare for the worst – to plan as if Jules _wouldn't _make it. And we both knew that I couldn't let her die without telling her how I felt. I'd proved that when I'd thought she had that virus.

I stood up, grabbed my coat, and left without saying another word. I knew he'd understand. After all, I had to talk to Jules. And I'd be damned if some security guard got in the way.


	8. Chapter 8

Juliet's POV

I was in Shawn's old jail cell.

That was the first thing I noticed. I would have liked to have said that it was because my detective skills were so good, but frankly, it was because his stuff was still here. For some reason, no one had taken it out. It felt… comforting. Having a piece – several pieces – of Shawn. It made me feel like he was still here, trying to make me feel better and protect me.

There were a few 80s movies that Shawn should have _known _he wouldn't have been able to watch in here, what with there being no television and all. There was a pineapple in the corner. And there were pictures. Shawn's pictures were all in a stack on his desk.

I decided to look through the pictures first, desperate for something tangible that would remind me of Shawn – so I could think of him anytime I needed to.

There was one of him and his dad. Shawn was sitting at a table in between his parents and Gus, with a birthday cake in front of him that said 'Happy 10th Birthday, Shawn!' He looked pretty happy in that one. Based on what little I'd heard about his childhood, this was probably one of his best memories.

The next ones were random pictures of him and Gus. I could tell by the looks on Gus's face that he wasn't very happy with all of the pictures Shawn had taken.

I started laughing at some of the pictures. They were _impossibly _ridiculous, but then again, this _was _Shawn. But still… it was hard to believe that Gus hadn't managed to prevent them dressing up in grass skirts and dancing at a luau. Shawn was drinking out of a coconut and holding a plate of pineapple and Gus was giving him a death glare.

I was so busy laughing at that picture that I knocked an envelope on the ground. I started to pick it up, but a few pictures fell out. I would have grabbed them, but my own face was jumping out at me.

I was sitting at my desk, wearing a black suit and a dark blue shirt. My hair was up, like it usually was at work. I had paperwork in front of me – which I had probably been working on before Shawn popped up with a camera. I was looking at Shawn, with the look I always gave him when I had a lot of work to do and couldn't visit: part irritation and part amusement. I could see the edges of my lips fighting a smile. Shawn had probably just said something funny.

All of the pictures looked like they were the same day. Shawn must have had a photography spree. The Chief was staring at him with exasperation in a few of them. Random coworkers were making funny poses. Buzz was waving at him in one. Carlton's face had apparently turned an… interesting… shade of purple several times that day.

That first picture of me was one of three. The second one was me laughing and hiding my face from the camera. The third one Gus must've taken with a different camera, because I was fighting Shawn for his. Shawn was in the next twenty pictures, the first few him surprised, and then a few were of him laughing and hiding his face, and the rest were of him trying to get the camera back from me. All of them were within seconds of each other, because I'd wanted to give him a taste of his medicine.

I heard footsteps coming towards my cell, and fast. I quickly started putting all of the pictures together. I had barely managed to finish picking them up when Shawn's face appeared in front of my cell.

He grinned at me. "Jules!"

"Shawn?" I asked, incredulous. What was he doing here?

He looked around. "Oh, hey. My stuff's still in there. I guess earlier was kind of… hectic."

"Yeah. I guess having two people confess to the same crime is kind of difficult to handle."

"Except that you had perfect details of the deed and I just had 'I can't remember what happened' as an excuse," he said sadly. "What were you thinking?"

I jumped up and stood in front of him, my face inches from his. "Me? What about you? You're the one who confessed to something you didn't even do! I actually did it!" I yelled.

"Exactly!" he argued. "You're going to be convicted, Jules! Is that what you want?"

"If I hadn't said anything," I countered, "_you _would have been convicted. Is that what _you _want?"

We were silent for a few moments. He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. "I just want to make sure nothing bad happens to you."

"Shawn –" I started.

"No, Jules," he cut me off. "Just listen for now. I need to get this out."

_Shawn, can you just _not _talk for a few seconds? _Oh, crap. I hate getting flashbacks.

"Jules… I don't know how you managed to get the courage to go on stand and tell everyone… people who didn't even know you… people who would definitely condemn you, and tell them what you did. I mean, I did something similar, but ... I wasn't even thinking the first time I said it. The second and last time, it was just Hornstock and Gus. Those were the only times I actually said that I did it. But you…" he swallowed. "You thought about it, had probably planned it, which is why you went on stand. And then, in front of everyone you knew and people you had never even heard of before then, you confessed. For me. And I don't think I could have done it like that. I always have been a 'fly by the seat of my pants' kind of guy."

_Look, I just wanted to tell you that what you did today... I mean, I can't imagine being able to function at that level while your Mom was… you know…_

"And things have been really… weird, for awhile now, which is probably my fault. You know, because of Abigail. And then after that, things just always kind of fell a little flat… because I was afraid. I was scared of what… something _more… _would mean for me. Because I just don't want to mess this up. And that has kind of made it hard for me to do anything except wait, which isn't fair to you at all. And it's probably… more than confusing for you."

_I know that things between us have been a little complicated. And that there have probably been some mixed signals, mostly from me, with regards to the time we spend together outside of the line of duty._

Shawn looked at me and suddenly stood straighter. He had a look in his eyes that said 'screw the consequences, this is my last chance, and this just might work'. And right then, it scared me more than any chase or shoot out or hostage situation or anything I had ever faced in my entire life.

"You told me something once. I thought I understood it then, but now… I didn't have a clue then. But I get it now. And you were right. The richest things never do come easily."

_I think maybe the best things, the richest things, aren't supposed to come easily._

"And moments… the moments in the world that make the most sense usually _do _happen when everything else is so confusing you want to scream about how unfair it is."

_And that sometimes the moments that make the most sense happen when everything else doesn't._

"And Jules… I just… I think… maybe…"

"Hey!" I heard someone yell. We both turned to see a security guard staring at Shawn. "You're not supposed to be here!"

Shawn looked at me, his face desperate. Desperate to tell me what he had come all the way here to say. "Jules, I –"

The security guard grabbed him. "You have to come with me."

"Wait, I just –"

"I don't want to hear it. We have enough problems without some random people breaking into a _jail _late at night."

The security guy pulled him away, towards the exit. I heard Shawn protesting the entire way.

And then he was gone.


	9. Chapter 9

Shawn's POV

I was so surprised when I woke up in the Psych office the next morning that I fell out of the chair. It hurt, and my first thought was that I was glad Jules or Gus didn't see me land on my butt. My dignity would have been destroyed.

Then the memories came rushing back in.

Jules confessing to murder in an entire courtroom. Me trying to comfort her. Talking to my dad. Breaking into the jail to tell her that I loved her. And, of course, being dragged out by that stupid security guard.

I sat still, staring at my desk. I had messed up. I'd hesitated, faltered, chickened out, however you want to say it. I hadn't been able to tell her.

I guess I could argue that the security guard had dragged me out too soon, but that wasn't entirely true. It was true that I'd been about to say it when he came in.

But it was also true that I had started chickening out thirty seconds before the security guard noticed me. It was more than enough time to say 'I love you'. I probably could have even told her really quickly before I was thrown out.

But I didn't. And that was what mattered. I'd blown my chance, and now she could get the death penalty. She could die without knowing how I felt.

"Shawn?" I heard a voice say. "What are you doing here so early?"

I looked up to see Gus standing in the doorway. "I slept here."

"_What?" _he exclaimed. "Shawn, you finally got out of jail! Why would you spend it here?"

"Because it's Jules that took my place, Gus!" I snapped. "Or did you forget about our little friend who is even in the same cell as I was?"

He looked hurt. "No, Shawn, I didn't. I also didn't forget that you're my best friend, my brother. And you will always come first. But that doesn't mean I could forget Juliet."

His quiet, hurt tone made me feel guilty. I sighed. "Sorry, man. It's just been a long week."

He nodded. "You know that's right." Then he gave me a suspicious look. "Wait… how do you know that she's in the same cell as you?"

I swallowed. "I may or may not have gone to see her last night."

"Shawn, visiting hours are over way before –" he cut himself off as a realization dawned on him. "You broke into a _jail?"_

"In all fairness, I had a right to go there! My stuff is still in the cell!" I protested.

"Shawn, that's breaking and entering! Into a _jail! _Where there are video cameras! Haven't you filled your 'going to jail' quota of the decade yet?" he scolded.

"I'm sure he has," a gruff voice said from behind me. I spun around and saw my dad. "But he hasn't filled his 'pulling dangerous and idiotic stunts' quota of the week yet." He looked at me. "How are you doing, kid? Did you talk to Detective O'Hara?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

There was an awkward silence for a moment. "I brought some pineapple," he said, holding it awkwardly.

"No, thanks," I said dismissively. I was too busy thinking about Juliet to eat pineapple.

Gus and my dad stared at me like I had grown five heads. "Shawn? Are you feeling okay? You _never _turn down pineapple," Gus asked.

"Oh, no," my dad said, like he was catching on to something. "You didn't tell her? Shawn, how could you break into a jail and not even tell her? Haven't I taught you anything?"

"I panicked!" I defended myself. I may have been thinking the same thing, but that doesn't give him the right to say it.

"Shawn, you've made some pretty big mistakes in your life, but this can't be one of them. If she gets convicted, you're going to regret this for the rest of your life! Now man up, and just talk to her!"

I stayed silent. Jules… it wasn't that simple with Jules and me. I wasn't very good at talking about my feelings, and the one time _she _did, I had been on a date. It wasn't like she was suddenly going to get over that because of talks about cereal boxes and re-quoting her own words. And I had no idea what to do.

"It's not always that simple, Dad," I said, my voice hoarse.

"Yes, Shawn. It is. The only reason people think that these things aren't simple is because they give themselves too many excuses not to do it. Just talk to her, Shawn. Be a man," he insisted.

I was about to yell at him, when I suddenly realized what he was trying to say. Well, what I _think _he was trying to say.

_Just talk to her, Shawn._

Talking to her would fix it. If I could just take this seriously for once in my life, maybe… maybe we'd be okay, Jules and I. Maybe we'd get through everything that was thrown at us on what seemed to be a daily basis. And maybe… just maybe, we could get through this very trial in a way that _didn't _involve a conviction.

"Gus, what's Hornstock's number?" I asked. "I believe he has a new client."

Gus wrote it down and handed it to me. I started to dial the number, but decided to do it later.

"I think I'll leave you boys to whatever it is you do all day," my dad said.

"Hey, dad?" I called, before he was all the way out the door. "Thanks."

I didn't get an answer, but I knew he felt good about my gratitude. He would probably hold it over my head forever. But at this moment, I wasn't entirely sure that I cared.

After all, I had an entire pineapple sitting in front of me. And it's not like it can eat itself. Although… that would be interesting to watch…


	10. Chapter 10

Juliet's POV

Sentencing. Funny – days ago, I'd been looking forward to this day, just so all of this could be behind me, one way or the other. Now… all I wanted to do was curl up on this sorry excuse of a bed and cry. I didn't want to go. The trial hadn't gone well. Hornstock had tried as best as he could, but… well, a confession is pretty overwhelming for the prosecution.

Shawn had helped. He'd taken up his role as legal consultant again to help me. But, well… Shawn knew better than anyone that I was guilty as hell. He should have known better. Now he'd have one lost case in his perfect record.

We'd tried for the insanity defense. We should have known just to do a plea bargain. Their specialist had completely demolished my character – managed to turn my hard work and motivation into possible reasons I became a killer and could end up a serial killer. Personally, I have no idea how being a police officer makes you a mass murderer – I'd zoned out after a while. But he'd gotten Carlton and the Chief convinced somehow. I could tell, because they'd looked at me with this pained look on their faces – as if they regretted making me as good a cop as I am today. And if he had them convinced, then the jury was probably ready to kill her. She didn't have any hope.

And Shawn… Shawn kept tearing himself up about this. He'd gotten a permanent haunted look on his face, as if every step, every breath he took killed him a little more inside. He just looked so _fragile._ Every time I saw him I thought he would burst out crying.

"Juliet O'Hara?"

I looked up. The same guard that had dragged Shawn out when he came to visit me was standing in front of my cell. "Yeah?"

"Here are your clothes. You need to get changed, and then it's time to go."

I sighed. Of course they would send someone to get me. I was foolish to think I could escape my fate. "Yeah. Okay."

I took the clothes and got changed. I hoped I looked okay. After all, it wasn't every day that the rest of my life would be decided for me.

"Hey, Jules," Shawn said. He was leaning against his Norton. He still had that 'I'm-so-fragile-and-everything-hurts' look in his eyes. I hated that it was there. I hated even more that it was my fault.

"Hi, Shawn," I greeted. "You're picking me up today, huh?"

"Yeah. That's my job today." He forced a smile. It faded pretty quickly, though. He swallowed once and then looked at me. "Jules… can I ask you something?"

"Might as well. You might not get to later." I regretted saying it immediately. A flash of pain crossed his face. His lower lip trembled slightly, and I thought he was going to start bawling. I had to swallow a couple times to get rid of the lump in my throat.

"Do you ever… think about what might have… happened… where we would be now… if that security guard hadn't dragged me out that night?" He was hesitating. Hesitating wasn't like Shawn. But then, neither was being in so much pain that he could barely even smile anymore.

"Yes," I whispered. "Shawn… what were you going to say?"

He swallowed again. "Jules… I know that you and I have had difficult –"

"Shawn, just cut to the chase," I interrupted. "You and I have done the big long speech too many times. Maybe it's time that we did the short and sweet approach instead."

He looked at me for what felt like an eternity, although I know that it was only about ten seconds. "I love you, Jules," he whispered.

My heart stopped beating for a few seconds. Then, when it started up again, it was beating at ten times its normal pace. "Shawn..." I whispered. I pressed my lips together to keep myself from crying. To finally hear that after all this time… it was overwhelming. And I knew that I was acting like a cliché character in some soap opera, but at that point, I didn't care. I walked over and hugged him. "I love you, too, Shawn," I whispered.

He held me to him as tight as he could. I slowly started breaking down. Within seconds I was sobbing into his shoulder. "Shhh… it'll be okay, Jules. I promise, it'll be okay."

I started crying even harder at that. Because there was only one reason Shawn would even feel the need to say that: if he didn't think it would be okay.

Shawn barely managed to muscle his way through the media. Personally, I was surprised he could at all. It wasn't that I thought Shawn was incapable, but he had just been so hurt lately. It sometimes seemed like it hurt too much for him to do anything. But after our little scene in the parking lot, I think Shawn felt that he had to stay strong for me. Normally, I would resent that. But frankly, this was not a normal circumstance.

"You okay?" he asked me.

"Yes, Shawn. I'm fine. And before you ask again for the twentieth time, yes, I'm fine. Now you can ask me in ten minutes instead of five."

He gave me a sheepish smile. My heart leapt at seeing it – it was his first real smile in days.

"Juliet! Shawn!"

We turned to see Gus waving at us. "It's about to start!" he yelled. "Come on!"

The foreman of the jury stood up. I held my breath. This was it. This would forever affect the rest of my life. "We the jury, for the murder of Jonathon Rollins, find the defendant guilty."

My heart crashed. I heard a gasp and realized that it was mine. For once in my life, I was terrified. Shawn looked defeated – like he was going to break into a million pieces. No, that wasn't right – it was like he already had.

The bailiffs grabbed my arms and yanked me away. No one else noticed, but I saw it. I saw how that one movement made Shawn snap. His eyes became hard with determination. He shoved the bailiffs away and then _he _grabbed my arm. He pulled me towards him, away from everyone. Everyone was yelling, trying to get at me. Shawn muscled past them. He made a break for his motorcycle. I – still reeling from my sentence – had no choice but to follow.

"Stop! Stop right there or I'll shoot!" I heard someone yell. It jerked me back to my senses. I expected Shawn to stop, but he didn't.

"Shawn –" I started.

I was interrupted by a loud _BANG!_

I saw Shawn fall to the ground, clutching his chest. There was a lot of blood.

"SHAWN!" I screamed. I knelt down beside him. "Shawn?"

"Jules…" he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, no, Shawn. Shawn, stay with me, okay? Stay with me!" I yelled. I cupped his face in my hands.

"Jules…" he whispered again.

I started crying. "Shawn, don't you dare die on me, okay? Don't you dare die!"

"Jules… I guess I… won't have to… live… without you… after all, huh?" He tried to smile, but ended up coughing instead.

"Shawn? Shawn?" I yelled. "You have to stay, okay? Stay with me, please just stay!" My heart was breaking with every word I said.

"Jules…" he whispered. His eyes started to flutter closed.

"No!" I growled, and then I pressed my lips forcefully against his. I kissed him with every ounce of force I had, trying to _make _him stay with me. I could taste his blood in my mouth. I didn't care. All I cared about was that he stayed with me.

I felt him weakly kissing me back. And then he pulled away. "Jules…" he whispered. "I love you."

"I love you, too." I whispered back. "Please, just stay with me. Please."

He didn't answer. I felt it when his heart stopped beating, and my heart screamed in pain. "No!" I yelled. I started sobbing. My head rested on his chest. His chest where there was no heartbeat, that wasn't rising because he wasn't breathing. "Shawn!" I cried. "No," I started whispering. And then I couldn't breathe because I was too racked with sobs. Shawn… My Shawn… he was gone…

And it was all my fault.

I woke up with a start and started sobbing. Shawn… it had felt so _real. _I could still vividly see the bullet wound in his stomach, his blood pooled around him, and I could still taste his blood on my mouth. "Shawn," I whispered.

I looked at the date. It was the first day of the trial – none of it had happened. None of it was real. No one had even testified yet. Shawn was alive.

That knowledge made me feel a little better, but there was a feeling that I just couldn't shake. A feeling that this dream was possibly a vision of my future.

And if it was, I didn't like it one bit.


	11. Chapter 11

Shawn's POV

Jules and I were separated by a glass this time. When the prison found out that I'd snuck in to see her, I lost most of my rights and privileges. So, naturally, I had to talk to her over the phone this time. It made the entire situation that much more real.

Despite that, all I could think of was the fact that she didn't look all that bad in orange.

I mean, orange is a pretty bad color for anyone, and Juliet wasn't that much of an exception. I definitely wouldn't recommend it for her. But in comparison to everyone else… she pulled it off pretty well. Needless to say, I was pretty impressed. It's hard to pull off orange, especially as a skin color. Unless you're a munchkin in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Or is it an Oompa-Loompa in the Wizard of Oz? I'll ask Gus later.

"Hey, Shawn. What's up?" Juliet asked tiredly. It was then I noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She must not be sleeping well, which was understandable. She _was _in prison.

"Nothing. Hornstock and Gus are still going through every single file of the case. We're going to decide what to do for the case tomorrow," I informed her.

"You're not on the case?" she asked, a hurt look on her face.

"No, I am," I assured her. "In fact, I already have an idea of what to do. They, however, insisted to go through every single file before throwing around ideas."

She nodded, and a ghost of a smile briefly appeared on her face. It was gone before my brain even registered it had been there. It made me sick to my stomach that this stupid ordeal was making her so serious – not to mention an insomniac.

"So, what is your idea? Have me say that I lied to protect you? I'm sure they'll all believe that," she said dryly.

"Jules, come on. I'd have to have a better plan than that!" I insisted. "Although if this ever happens again, run that idea by me sooner." She rolled her eyes, but I saw her smiling. It was good to see her smiling after all that had happened. "You said – in your testimony – that it was like you were watching yourself kill him, right? Like, an out of body experience."

She nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice wavering. "I was like an observer – I couldn't stop. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"An insanity defense." She looked at me, her face blank. "We use an insanity defense, you get off with a few years of counseling. Hornstock, Lassie, Chief Vick, Gus, and I could pull some strings to make sure you can get your job back afterwards. Maybe my mom could help. She _is_ a psychologist. Jules, it's perfect! Everything could be normal again!"

"After a few years of counseling," she added. She sighed. "I don't know, Shawn. Not very many people who use the insanity defense are successful."

"Do you have a better idea, Jules? Hornstock is a great lawyer, okay? He'll get you off, I know it," I insisted.

She looked at me a long time, and I felt like _she _was the psychic. She was one of the only people I couldn't hide anything from, along with Gus and my dad. Well, except for the fact that I wasn't psychic. She hadn't quite caught on to that.

"Are you trying to convince me, or you?" she asked. I opened my mouth to answer, but she cut me off. "Shawn, you don't know that this is going to work. As psychic as you are, for all you know, I could be convicted and sent to jail when all of this is over."

"Jules, that's how all cases are. You never know how a case is going to end. You never know if you're going to find the bad guy." I leaned in closer to the glass. "But you hope and you try anyway, because if you don't, you'll always wonder what would have happened if you did."

She looked down. "Shawn…" she said. "Thank you. For everything. I know, I haven't been very grateful when you help me sometimes, and that I haven't taken you very seriously, but… you're the best friend I've ever had." She put her hand on the glass, trying to touch me. My heart broke a little, seeing the vulnerability in her face.

I reached out and touched the glass, pretending I was feeling the warm skin of her hand instead of the cold, smooth glass. We were silent for a few minutes, until I changed the subject. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you?"

She swallowed and shook her head. "No, not really. I had a, uh, pretty bad nightmare last night."

"Like what?" I asked. "Is someone bothering you? An inmate, a security guard, anyone? Cause I'll tell Lassie, and he can give them some of his coffee. All the sugar and cream in there, it could make any man topple over from a heart attack."

Jules laughed a little, her blue eyes shining with humor, until they became serious again. "Shawn… no matter what happens, with this case, we'll be okay, right? We'll get through it if I'm convicted."

"You won't be convicted, Jules, I promise," I said, trying to get her to stop talking like that.

"I know, I know," she assured me. "But _if _I do… you won't do anything drastic or stupid to try and help me get out, right?"

I grinned. "I don't know, Jules, I am pretty well known for doing stupid things. I might not be able to help myself if –"

"Shawn," she cut me off. Her eyes started pleading with me. Now I understand why Lassie is such a teddy bear for her and not the rest of the world. Those eyes alone could make the most hardened, heartless man bend to her will. "Please, don't. Promise me."

I hesitated, then looked down as I nodded. "Yeah, Jules. I promise. As long as you promise you'll do your absolute best not to get convicted. Deal?"

She nodded. "Deal."

I considered shaking hands with her, but then realize how difficult it would be with the glass in the way. And I got a sinking feeling in my stomach as I realized the only reason Juliet would be this worried about me was if she thought something really bad would happen. And Jules wasn't known for bad instincts.

**Okay, that's it! If you're reading this, then THANKS FOR READING SO FAR! I'll try to update sooner this time. PLEASE REVIEW!**


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